My Friends Call Me Pasha
by Pikeru's Angel
Summary: House meets a young teenage girl in the clinic, and she's... interesting, to say the least. K because I'm paranoid.
1. Where Much Sarcasm is Used

**A/N: Just a random little story I thought up a few weeks ago, and i decided to go through with writing it. And posting it, apparently. Hopefully I'm not too off on House. I can never tell...  
Also, un-betad. any mistakes (which are probably many) are my own.  
On with the show!**

* * *

"_Baby I've been here before.  
I know this room,  
I've walked this floor  
__I used to live alone before I knew ya._"

The sweet voice rang through the empty clinic of Princeton Plainsboro Teaching Hospital. Only one man was close enough (or awake enough) to hear it; a bitter cripple with a love of sarcasm. The man, obviously a doctor despite the lack of proper attire, stopped dead in his tracks just outside the clinic doors. The voice was young and unspoiled, having not faced harsh reality yet. The man almost felt sorry for the owner, obviously young and female. She'd break eventually; figure out life for what it was. It would be the worst day of her life, in all likely-hood. Suddenly, the man wanted to see who the voice belonged to.

"_I've seen your flag on the marble arch,  
And, love is not a victory march;_"

Truer words never spoken- err, sung. The man walked in to the clinic, a certain curiousness combined with a need to know lighting up his eyes. He leaned a bit less on his cane than he had before; no one would have noticed even if they had seen him.

"_It's cold and it's a broken Hallelujah._"

Okay, that's where the man disagreed a bit. He wasn't particularly religious - in fact, he was 'an atheist on Easter and Christmas'. But still, the words were sung rather well, so he couldn't complain. If the voice was good there was really no point focusing on the lyrics, right?

"_Hallelujah.  
__Hallelujah.  
__Hallelujah.  
__Hallelujah…_"

The man clapped, leaning against the wall, his cane propped up beside him. The only person there looked up from her book. A girl, no older than thirteen, with wavy brown hair and huge, doe-brown eyes - the kind that brought people to their knees. She gaped for a second, before shutting her mouth with a slight _click, _smirking in to the pages.

"I'm glad you enjoyed the performance. I never liked the lyrics myself, but it had a nice tune." Ah. Not a religious girl then; just heard it somewhere and liked how it sounded. Interesting.

The man nodded, not saying another word. When it was clear he would be leaving, the girl looked up, one eyebrow raised. The man shrugged.

"What, no more songs for the kiddies?" She laughed.

"This place is pretty much dead; I don't want any members of the staff to fall asleep on my account."

"I'm sure you could think up something that wouldn't put people to sleep. Probably." She smirked in return to the comment,.

"I'm Suzan, by the way, Suzan Tracey, but my friends call me Pasha. And you might be…?"

"Busy." And he turned away, fully prepared to leave, trying not to puzzle over the nickname. Pasha...? Wasn't that Russian for something?

Suzan laughed. "Obviously not. If you were busy you wouldn't be here. Unless, of course, your just trying to get out of working again, Dr. House." She stopped, looking thoughtful, and House stopped dead in his tracks.

"You know me how?" He was definitely curious now. What was a young teenage girl doing at a hospital, in the clinic, reading a book on a perfectly good Friday night? And, more importantly, how did she know him?

Suzan laughed again; a full, hearty sound that reverberated off the walls. "I come here a lot - mostly for people watching. You're an… interesting subject, and I always make sure to learn the names of interesting subjects."

Wow, she sounded like him! Hmm. He never thought he'd be thinking that before.

"Define "interesting". Interesting like "Oh look, there's a cripple, how'd he get the limp?" interesting, or "Wow he's a jackass. Why's he like that?" interesting." Suzan laughed again, shutting her book loudly.

"I choose option c, which you failed to list by the way. Interesting like, "Wow! He's a bloody genius, and yet, everyone seems to hate him except these few people… I wonder why,". Big difference." Was that a smirk? Yeah. It was almost a completely innocent smile, like one would expect, but there was just a bit too much tooth in the grin for House to actually call it a regular smile. He sat down in the chair across from her, meaning to get a better look for his study.

"You a Stones fan?"

Well… that was unexpected.

"Yeah. Why?"

"You just seem like a Stones kind of guy. I'm more of a U2 gal myself, but I'll listen to pretty much anything. Stones make it on my top twenty though. Right above Sara Barellis, and right below the Zac Brown Band." She grinned. "It's funny. I was always a country girl -well, that's what my momma calls me-, but I don't like a lot of country bands. Strange…" She trailed off, suddenly more focused on her book. House remained.

Alright. Information gained so far. She liked music, and had a voice to go with her preferences. She people watched on an apparently regular basis. Judging by the Spock ears she was wearing and the fact that she was absently humming the Doctor Who theme, she was a sci-fi fan. By the longer-than-seen-on-most-girls skirt and half-inch black heels said she didn't have major self-esteem issues, though still had a few, but the main reason was to say "no, you can't have" to boys her age. If that wasn't what she was trying to convey she would've been wearing a shorter skirt and higher heels. But she wasn't, so she was trying to avoid the male species all together.

Interesting.

She glanced up from her book, which she had re-opened. "You know, when I people watch I don't like to talk to my subjects, since it ruins what I can learn about them without talking to them, nor do I liked then inspecting me like something under a microscope. In retrospect, I'm better with option a than option b, so either talk, or leave before I side-kick you in the chest."

House raised his hands above his head in mock-surrender, smirking. "No need to get violent with the cripple."

A pause.

"What are you reading?"

"You don't care."

"You don't know that."

Suzan snorted. "The only thing that would make you care is if it would help solve the puzzle that is me. Which, in retrospect, it will, but that doesn't make me any more willing to tell you."

"You're getting pretty defensive over reading material."

"Yes. The reason? Because what a person reads says a lot about said person." She snapped the book shut again, stuffing it in a book bag on the ground before House could tell more than the fact that it was either well-read or a hand-me-down. "So I don't usually say what I'm reading. Sometimes I give titles, but I hate giving descriptions because it feels like I'm describing myself- and I'm really falling for it, aren't I? Zark." House's smirk grew wider. She really had fallen for it, though he had to admit, she'd caught on faster than his team usually did. Very good,

"You did better than most. Usually I get a lot more before people catch on to my evil plans, and those are adults, not teenagers."

Suzan rolled her eyes. "Jackass. Don't make fun of my intelligence based off my age; it's usually a grave mistake. Just ask my teachers; they all hate me now."

"How old are you?"

"Seventeen. What do you think? Twelve, thirteen next month."

"Grade?"

"High enough to not fall into this."

"Ah, but I've met med school graduates that fall into it, so you're never high enough."

She scowled. "I'm going into ninth this fall."

Now he was surprised. "Ninth?"

"Yeah. I skipped a grade. Well, a couple grades in certain subjects. It's all rounded up to ninth- I'm doing it again!" She slapped her forehead. "Damn my talkative nature!" House raised an eyebrow. He would hate himself later for admitting this, even mentally, but he was starting to like this girl. Just a bit.

She glanced up at a nearby clock before paling visibly. "Crap! That friggin' late already?" "Friggin'"? House had never heard someone under the age of fifteen use the word "friggin'". Interesting.

Suzan gathered up her book bag, adjusting her heels before standing. "Gotta go! I'm assuming you'll see me here tomorrow now that you know I people watch?" House smirked.

"You have a skill there." Which was basically code for "yes".

She shrugged. "Guess I can't come in tomorrow. Damn shame; I was enjoying this."

She started walking off, heels clicking on the tiles, and if House closed his eyes he could almost imagine it was Cuddy.

"Hey," Suzan turned, one eyebrow quirked ever-so-slightly. "Meet me in my department tomorrow. I have a feeling I could use you." She smiled.

"Diagnostics, right?"

"How…? Never mind. Forgot who I was talking to. Yes, diagnostics."

"I'll see you tomorrow then Doctor." She winked. "I just hope it's not lupus, or else my time there will be very boring indeed." And with that, she click-clacked off with a confident stride, slightly faster than a normal walk.

House allowed himself a small grin as he followed soon after, briefly checking the clock before leaving.

It was barely nine o'clock.


	2. In Which Many New Nicknames are Heard

**A/N: Wow! Another chapter _that_bloody fast? I know! don't expect this from now on. I was just hit with inspiration soon after posting chapter 1. Updates will probably be few and far between from now on.  
Oh, and this one includes the team! No diagnosis though. thank goodness my mother buys all sorts of health books, otherwise we might not get any differential diagnosis. am I right?**

* * *

Robert Chase walked in to the diagnostic department wearily, a cup of coffee in his hand in an attempt to wake himself up at the early hour. The person sitting at the far end was sufficient though.

A girl, a teenager, actually, her red-brown hair was put up into a bun with a few loose, curled strands framing her face. She leaned back easily in the chair, reading. Her orange tank top was slightly low-cut, and her legs were crossed on the table. She was obviously comfortable with her environment, which mean she likely had no idea whose office she was actually in. Why else would she be so at ease? Then again, House wasn't in yet so…

He cleared his throat loudly, sitting down across from the girl, setting his crossword and coffee down on the table. She looked up, head cocked to one side in confusion as she sat up. "I'm sorry," She said politely. "I don't believe I know you."

Chase awkwardly stuck out a hand. "Doctor Robert Chase. Who are you?"

The girl grinned. "Ah, an Aussie. Never heard _that_particular accent before. Just another to add to the list." She clasped his hand firmly, eyes shinning mischievously. "I'm Suzan Tracey, though my friends call me Pasha. I'm basically here out of boredom and to try and dissect your boss." Chase nodded.

"I see." He looked down to his crossword for a spilt second, though decided not to be rude. "Where'd you get the nickname?"

Suzan let out a pseudo long-suffering sigh. "I watched Star Trek -the new movie, I mean- with my friends for the first time, and they immediately decided I was most like Ensign Chekov, Pavel Andreievich, though I don't see how, seeing as I'm _clearly_ McCoy. Anyway," She paused. "One of them looked up what the name "Pavel" meant, as well as the nickname. Well, the nickname for it was Pasha, and the name means young one, or small, and I'm the youngest in our little circle so…" A shrug. "The rest is history."

Chase nodded again, and went to his crossword. Suzan immediately went back to her book, giving him no reason to feel like he was being a rude cad.

It was barely five minutes before she stood up, leaving the book discarded and open on the table. If Chase had bothered to look, he would have noticed that it was _Collision Course_by William Shatner; the first in his Star Trek Academy series. But of course, Chase didn't look up, so he didn't see the title.

He did, however, hear the quiet, fast steps that started as soon as Suzan stood up.

It was easy to ignore at first. Hell, Chase would have gone as far as to say it was soothing the way it got rid of the silence, but it was only a matter of time before he looked up.

She'd been at it for a good ten minutes when he did, and he couldn't help but raise an eyebrow.

She had her eyes closed.

Pacing around the table at an abnormally fast speed, fingers drumming to an unknown beat at her sides, Suzan had her eyes closed.

Even more interesting, she didn't run into anything.

So he watched, leaving his half completed crossword open and his coffee to get cold.

Two minutes later, he realized her lips were moving, near silent whispers escaping, made slightly louder by the tune they carried.

Barely thirty second after that, the door opened and she ran straight into Taub.

Her eyes snapped open when her step faltered, and Taub nearly tripped into a chair. "Sorry," A pause. "Haversham. Yeah, Haversham works." Taub stared for a second when Suzan continued pacing, being careful to go around him.

Taub carefully sat down, and Chase went back to his crossword.

"Who is she?" Taub asked quietly, and Chase barely glanced up.

"Suzan Tracey. She apparently here to try and dissect House." He said, and puzzled for a five letter word meaning to clone or forge.

Suzan stopped in her mad pacing and glanced over his shoulder. "I believe the word your looking for is xerox, Blondie." And she kept going.

Chase gave her a weak glare, but put in the word.

Within ten minutes Foreman and Thirteen were in, and the only one they were waiting for was House, which wouldn't be in for at least another hour considering it was barely ten.

Suzan just kept on pacing.

Finally, it was Chase that snapped.

"Would you please stop pacing?" She stopped, going straight back to her original seat.

"'Bout time. Though I was honestly expecting it to be either Haversham-" She motioned to Taub. "-Or Warrick over there." Foreman. "Then again, I really shouldn't be surprised since you were here the longest."

Silence.

Suzan stood up, walking over to House's office. "I'm gonna snoop around in your bosses desk. Anyone wanna join me? No? Alright then." And she walked in without another word.

"Who is she?" Asked Foreman after a moment.

"Friend of mine. Met her in the clinic last night." Said House from the doorway, smirking.

"How long have you been there?" Asked Taub.

"Long enough to hear her call you Haversham."

"It's a term of endearment, Sherlock!" Suzan said from House's office, still rummaging through drawers. "I give nicknames to- why do you have a condom in here? What the bugger?" House snickered quietly, sitting down at the head of the table.

"Well, now that that's cleared up, you can go. Clinic duty to do, sick people to cure." He tossed his ID card to Taub, who, unfortunately, wasn't fast enough to catch so it ended up hitting him square in the head. "You can do my clinic hours. There should be a good amount to keep you busy."

"The Aussie stays!" Suzan called, just as Chase was getting up from his chair. She popped her head through the door. "I don't wanna be left alone with him so he can interrogate me." She clarified.

House gave Chase "The Look". The one that told him to leave, and let him have his fun before he got hit with the cane. Chase complied.

Suzan gave a fake long suffering sigh as Chase left, walking back to the table and laying a few items down as she sat at her original spot. "Funny. Condom, vicodin, whisky, and an original Conan Doyle. What can you tell about the person who owns these items, other than the fact that he is very messed up considering they were all in his office."

"I put the condom in there last night to screw with you."

"I figured, but still. Other three items?"

"You're guy has no regard for his health and enjoys reading Sherlock Holmes." House responded, a slightly sarcastic tone slipping in.

"Yes, he enjoys reading about a man he could be the reincarnation of. Unless it was a gift. I didn't actually read the note on the front page." Now the sarcasm was dripping off her tone, and she was rather good at it, eye roll and all.

She snatched the book before House could even move, opening and immediately raising an eyebrow. "'Just to screw with you, Suzie. Keep if you want; I have another copy at home. ~House,'" she looked up at him, her expression puzzled. "Did you just give me a gift?" House shrugged.

"I checked your file. You're birthday was yesterday. You dyed your hair I see."

"I'm going to assume you want me to address both subjects. Everybody lies. Why did you even look at my file? And yes, I did dye it. Last night, in fact. I wanted to see what it would look like closer to my mother's color. You know, honor my Scottish heritage and all that."

"I looked at your file because I was curious. Why did you lie about your birthday of all things? And can you do an accent to match your heritage?"

Suzan sighed, rolling her eyes. "Aye, I can do the Scottish accent. And Ah've got an arse kickin' Russian too." She said in a perfect Scottish accent. "And I lied about my birthday because I just didn't want you to know, simple as that."

"I see. But _why _didn't you want me to know? That's all I care about."

"I don't like people making a big deal about it. I figured you wouldn't, but I didn't want to take the chance." There was something unspoken behind those words, something not even House could find, and it frustrated him to no end that he couldn't.

Just like before, Suzan looked up at a nearby clock, and grinned.

"well, I'd love to challenge my mind more, but I've got a date. And before you say anything or follow me out, no, not a date date. I'm going out to the movie with a few friends of mine." She winked at him, collecting her original book along with the Conan Doyle. "See you later, Holmes."

And she left.

House honestly hoped she'd be back, just so he could figure her out, of course.


End file.
